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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29548656">Assassin's Creed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TowerofBabel/pseuds/TowerofBabel'>TowerofBabel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of the Expanded (AU) Phantomhive Family [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Assassins &amp; Hitmen, Ciel's fraternal twin, Gen, Roma | Rome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:08:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29548656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TowerofBabel/pseuds/TowerofBabel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is Lukas Phantomhive and who trained him to be an assassin? Everyone thought he had died during surgery to fix a facial imperfection, but someone saw a beautiful blossom within the ugliness and fixed it. Now "The Master "has sent out "Assassin No. 6" to kill Vincent Phantomhive's cohorts because of their arrogance. How did Lukas Phantomhive get his fighting ability and weapon's training? Learn his origins and the revenge behind it!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of the Expanded (AU) Phantomhive Family [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part 1 - Rome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the prequel to my novel: "His Butler With Two Masters".</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="xcontrast">
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p></p>
    <div>
      <p>The ruins of the ancient Roman Colosseum, in Rome, Italy, have been crumbling for years. Half of its structure has fallen in years' past from natural disasters that have plagued the small country, and one earthquake in particular that struck Italy in this region caused extensive damage to the southern upper tier wall, causing it to crash down in 847 A.D.E.. Debris was still present within and without the once glorious monument to Rome's mighty civilization.</p>
      <p>Rome itself, fell to the continued influx of immigration that eventually destroyed its proud people and its rich culture, and the berth of Christianity, turning Rome from a polytheism religion to a monotheism one. Never did it recover to the essence of Julius Ceasar's Rome or that of Octavian after him, and eventually, according to antiquity, its magnificence as well as its people, becoming conquered continuously by a multitude of invading armies over time, surrendered the mighty city to the the unforgiving hourglass of Time.</p>
      <p>But history did not concern Dietrich Heimlich at the moment, and as he traveled through the streets in a horse and carriage, driven by a trusted driver, all his mind could think about was murder. Who had murdered his good friend Vincent Phantomhive? And for what reason?</p>
      <p>Investigations by Scotland Yard, England's detective agency, had labeled it a tragic accident caused by an unsupervised fireplace, whereas a log had rolled out and set fire to the carpet in the Sitting Room, while the Phantomhive's, minus their ten year old son Ciel, were sleeping...and both were burned beyond recognition. It appeared that Ciel had also perished in the fire, but his body was never found.</p>
      <p>But Dietrich suspected more.</p>
      <p>It had been too much of a coincidence to be an accident, especially when the Phantomhive's had so many enemies being the Queen's loyal guard dogs, protecting the Crown from threats. Unfortunately, albeit tragic, like all things, it appeared they were unable to protect themselves from a hidden threat, and their luck finally ran out. Dietrich had a list of suspects, but he had not had time to investigation them yet.</p>
      <p>One name topped the list: Bryon Kelvin, the recluse philanthropist, who had once visited the mansion during a social gathering and met Vincent Phantomhive and other guests, including Dietrich himself, for one of many of the Phantomhive's lavish parties at their mansion. Guests normally included various social elite of England's posh and high ranking society. Bryon Kelvin had arrived by a mistaken invitation delivered to the wrong address. However, he was never told this…notwithstanding, it was a happenstance encounter that did provide beneficial to Vincent. Or so he thought at the time.</p>
      <p>Vincent's son, Lukas, Ciel's fraternal twin, was afflicted with a deformity to his face, caused by an adverse reaction to medicine and needed plastic surgery to correct it.</p>
      <p>Bryon Kelvin said he knew of a prominent surgeon who could perform the operation, and this doctor had the credentials to do so. Vincent had never met the man, but Dr. Charles Hathaway was a renown surgeon who had performed countless successful operations in this particular surgical field. It was the perfect opportunity to fix his son and have him live a normal life.</p>
      <p>It was also a way for Vincent to save face from the embarrassment of having an ugly son, while his other son was the embodiment of beautification, for a boy. He hoped one day both his sons will grow up, marry, and replenish the Phantomhive lineage, as Vincent and his two sons were the only true blood left - other than Chlaus, of course, Vincent's elder brother, born on Germany, but later raised in England, and named after a close and personal friend of his father's. But Chlaus was a womanizer and didn't have any children; this didn't worry Dietrich in particular, but it did make him sole heir to the Phantomhive fortune now.</p>
      <p>When tragedy befell Lukas when he suffered failure during the operation and died, Rachel, Vincent's wife, blamed Bryon Kelvin for the death of her son, but Vincent, of a sort, defended Kelvin, saying Kelvin could not have known Lukas was not strong enough to handle the stress of the operation. Dietrich would have agreed with his friend if Kelvin didn't mysteriously disappear after Lukas's death, along with the doctor.</p>
      <p>Strangely enough, this was also when the kidnappings of London's children began to escalate to a degree unseen. Children had disappeared before, on occasion, months apart, but never to this level. And Vincent and Rachel had, on many times, fed by tips and by the Queen's decree, went after the kidnappers. Where they discovered, prior to Lukas's death, that two serial killers named Sasha and Samuel Ironstadt were involved, and were hired to kidnap the children, and were using them as an army of brainwashed killers.</p>
      <p>Vincent had thought long on the kidnapped children case and he suspected Bryon Kelvin may have been involved in some fashion, based on the deaths of some orphaned children Bryon had sponsored turning up in horrid ways, self-inflicted. Vincent had formed a theory and had telegraphed the assistance of some his close trusted friends to met him, Dietrich included. But the meeting never took place when it was learned the Phantomhive mansion had burned to the ground with Vincent and Rachel's bodies charred to near ash just six days shy of the meeting.</p>
      <p>Had the telegram been intercepted or had the message Vincent sent fallen on the eyes of spies and into the hands of his enemies - or perhaps just one enemy - to cause Vincent and Rachel's demise?</p>
      <p>The message only said:</p>
      <p><strong>ARRIVE 20</strong> <strong>TH</strong> <strong>OF DECEMBER. IMPORTANT NEWS. FOUND TRUTH ABOUT B.K.!</strong></p>
      <p>It was a vague invite, but Dietrich knew what it meant.</p>
      <p>Scotland Yard had yielded nothing in the case, but Dietrich, with others, had a theory of their own. And this was the reason why he had chosen to met secretly with Chlaus in Rome, Italy, after he received a letter. Dietrich received the letter at his residence in Germany.</p>
      <p>The letter read in short:</p>
      <p>
        <em>
          <strong>"My dear friend, Dietrich;</strong>
        </em>
      </p>
      <p>
        <em>
          <strong>It has recently come to my attention that my brother's theory about Bryon Kelvin was more correct than surmised. I also believe he is also some how behind the children kidnappings in London, and in such, may have murdered my brother to keep it a secret. We must meet to discuss this further. Come to my residence in Italy, near the Piazza del Colosseo, at your earliest convenience.</strong>
        </em>
      </p>
      <p>
        <em>
          <strong>Signed,</strong>
        </em>
      </p>
      <p>
        <em>
          <strong>Your friend, ("AofE");</strong>
        </em>
      </p>
      <p>
        <em>
          <strong>Chlaus Phantomhive."</strong>
        </em>
      </p>
      <p>It has arrived with the Phantomhive wax stamp, sealed on the back.</p>
      <p>Chlaus didn't need to tell Dietrich where he exactly he lived other than near the Roman Colosseum; which house number, for it was common to him. Chlaus had moved to Italy because he enjoyed its serenity. And just in case the letter was intercepted, Chlaus's residence address would be safe from unsavory eyes. The tone of the letter also indicated something nefarious against Chlaus, because now he was the last remaining Phantomhive. But Dietrich just believed his friend was being paranoid. Why would anyone want to murder Chlaus? He had nothing to do with his brother's situation?</p>
      <p>The horse and carriage pulled up to a dapper looking, two-story house, about a ten minute walk to the Colosseum. The Colisseum's structure towered the landscape, once home to gladiatorial games and other blood sport. Chlaus had built a modest home deep in the heart of Italy's <em>solid ground community</em>. He didn't like the water, where quite a few buildings had been constructed to accommodate the warf's and other water businesses, even homes, near-by. Chlaus always like to keep his feet sturdy beneath him.</p>
      <p>Being a military man, Dietrich had no preference for any particular terrain; land, sea or air. But there wasn't much cause for sea or air, because most of all fighting was done by soldiers in the field, albeit specialized war machines and artillery, that can slaughter an enemy with swift efficiency. But he preferred to his get his hands dirty with hand-to-hand combat, killing nearly a hundred men, and as a colonel, had been awarded the Iron Cross, the highest distinction to recognize extreme battlefield bravery or successful battlefield leadership, for which he proved he to be the master of both. And to date, he was the most highly decorated officer in the Germanic army wearing his metals proudly.</p>
      <p>The Prussians, the French, even the Russians all included fronts to conquer. One massive swift advance into either one of their territories would bring Germany additional land to expand their ever growing population. But when the Treaty of Frankfurt came to pass, it left a very soul taste in his mouth. It alluded to cowardness, the French hiding behind Germanic forces. It didn't make France popular and they received a lot of hostility for it, aligning with Germany, but they felt it was best for their continued survival and it prevented continued, unwanted war against their already battered nation.</p>
      <p>But Dietrich refused to learn a word of French!</p>
      <p>He paid the driver, collected a bag, and the horse and carriage trotted off, leaving him alone in front of Chlaus's home. The sun was setting, and the entire front of the house was cast in shadow. Odd, however, that not one light was on, seen through the windows. But perhaps the butler was in the process of doing so?</p>
      <p>Rapping his knuckles on the front door, he waited patiently for the butler to answer. But after a minute, no one did. He rapped again, waited for a minute, but again, no one came to the door.</p>
      <p>He turned the handle to the door and surprisingly found it insecure, the tongue of the lock was not even inserted into the side of the door frame.</p>
      <p>He pulled out his pistol and slowly opened the door. The main vestibule was dark, too dark to be natural. In fact, he saw no lights on at all, and no servants anywhere. However, the first thing he suspected wasn't fool play, but a break-in, seeing no one. But if so, then the door lock would be broken, not just left open.</p>
      <p>He ventured forward into the dark and stumbled slightly when he boot hit a heavy object. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a box of matches, striking one. His eyes narrowed when he saw a body lying on the floor. It was the butler with his throat slashed. He saw the maid not far off in the same condition. Blood pooling the floor.</p>
      <p><em>Chlaus</em>, he thought. <em>I hope you're not…</em></p>
      <p>Venturing around the rest of the house slowly, he eventually climbed up a flight of stairs to the second floor, where he found himself faced with three doors: the guest quarters, the main quarters and the water-closet, and each door was closed. He could search each one, but he had a feeling he only needed to go into one.</p>
      <p>He struck another match and opened the main quarters, it was dark. Gazing cautiously around the room, here he found his friend in bed with a second body, both stabbed. Blood saturated the bed sheet. They appeared to be naked, either stabbed in their sleep or in the act of copulation.</p>
      <p>"Oh Chlaus…" he whispered. And then looked upon the woman. "Lady Carolyne?"</p>
      <p>Both had been members of Vincent's secret sect of aristocrats, an elite group formed in London, to be a second line of defense against a shadowy evil Vincent foresaw coming to <em>his</em> world in the near future, along with Dietrich and three others, including Tanaka, Vincent's butler. Vincent had allied himself with friends he had made in his travels aboard and within London to help protect his family and his interests. The Phantomhive's used to be a widespread family, but had dwindled down to just the pureblood of Vincent and his two sons, each prior family member tragically dying off from mysterious circumstances. Now the Phantomhive's were no more. Chlaus had been the last of their line, with Lukas dying three years earlier and Ciel disappeared and presumed dead.</p>
      <p>But Dietrich had no idea that Chlaus and Lady Carolyne Eastbrook were involved. That was a surprise.</p>
      <p>Lady Carolyne was a pioneer woman of power in her own rite, a strong-willed woman with a savvy business sense. Along with others, she helped form Vincent's elite group of world-wide contacts, which also aided in Vincent's business ventures, and the reason why <em>Fantom Co.</em> was a very prominent company. Each one of Vincent's allies were very powerful and helped Vincent reach the four corners of the globe, which some say only added fuel to the rumor that he was the leader to a group called the "Aristocrats of Evil", because it appeared Vincent was attempting to blanket the world, allying himself with influential people in power. But that was how the world worked and how the most powerful survived and the weak perished.</p>
      <p>But if Chlaus and Lady Carolyne's deaths were any indication, someone knew of their connection to Vincent's network and had murdered them to try to end it.</p>
      <p>But who? And who murdered his friends?</p>
      <p>The blood smelled fresh, so they had not been dead long.</p>
      <p>Something jumped aloft next to him to the bed and he jerked startled, pointing his pistol at it. Then he breathed easy when it was Chlaus's pet cat, a white Himalayan Persian, Sabby, which he named after Vincent's Russian bloodhound Sebastian, that had also died in the mansion's fire. It meowed at him, unfazed by the death of his owner, or had not noticed yet.</p>
      <p>"If only you could talk, you would tell me who did this," Dietrich said.</p>
      <p>The glint of metal caught his eye in a corner of the quarters, brought about by the struck match he held. He aimed his pistol at it instinctively. Then something sliced through the pistol barrel with the sharp, sheer precision of a blade.</p>
      <p>
        <em>The assassin!</em>
      </p>
      <p>He threw away the match, casting the room back into pure darkness, then reached into his jacket and unsheathed a bayonet, a small German sword half that of standard size. It was perfect for close combat. No military man was ever unarmed, carrying more than one weapon in his arsenal. He backed away and then yanked the curtains open, which had been shut, casting some illumination into the room, and was surprised to find a tiny man holding a bayonet of his own. A midget assassin?</p>
      <p>Light cast half the assassin's face to show.</p>
      <p><em>No, not a midget…a boy? </em>He looked to be no more then ten years of age. "Did you do this boy?" Dietrich demanded, holding his bayonet in offensive posture. But the boy didn't respond, and merely gazed at Dietrich with dark, sinister eyes. "Who are you? I'll make you pay for this!"</p>
      <p>But the boy quickly fled out the door and down the stairs, as he had been seen.</p>
      <p>"Come back here boy!"</p>
      <p>Dietrich followed the boy, albeit cautiously, but saw the boy flee out the front door of the house. Reaching the threshold, Dietrich saw the boy run down the road into an alleyway of some close-quarter, two-story, semi-detached houses, the worker-class of Italy, and followed him.</p>
      <p>He ran through a midst of winding labyrinth alleyways hidden between the worker houses and cast in very little light. But the boy was much too fast and he escaped through an thin alcove just his size, that Dietrich knew he could not follow. And Dietrich cursed himself that he was not a younger man so he could catch the boy. Who ever this boy was and who he worked for, had trained him well. He had all the instincts and speed and stealth of an elite fighter and assassin.</p>
      <p>Dietrich turned, and soon found himself in a precautious position. He allowed himself to be lured into unknown territory, and when he looked around, all the alleyways looked the same. He had been following the boy, but he had not paid attention of his whereabouts, or how to return back to the starting point.</p>
      <p>The boy was either very smart, or he had been foolish to fall for such an obvious ploy. And for a military man, <em>that</em> was embarrassing. But he saw the towering structure of the Roman Colosseum ahead, and much like sailors followed the position of the stars, he too followed this beacon of escape, and soon found himself in open ground, standing close to the famous monument, with the moon casting a white luminous through one of its buttress windows.</p>
      <p>He knew where he was now and could make it back to Chlaus's house. It was too bad the assassin had escaped…</p>
      <p>He turned around, and suddenly found himself facing the barrel of a pistol aimed up at his face, the assassin boy glaring at him with glacial, blue eyes, a slight shadow across one half of his face still casting doubt on an identity.</p>
      <p>Dietrich raised his arms in surrender, still with his bayonet in hand. "Easy boy, you don't want to use that," he said. The moon shifted its glow, as it emerged from surrounding cloud cover, and suddenly the boy's face became fully apparent.</p>
      <p>Dietrich gasped in utter shock. "You? But we thought you were dead?"</p>
      <p>The last thing Dietrich saw was the spark of the flint-lock of the pistol ignite.</p>
      <p>
        <em>To be continued…</em>
      </p>
    </div>
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  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 2 - Scotland</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="xcontrast">
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div><p>The magnificent, stone built castle that belonged to a wealthy Scottish lord was at the top of a long winding path in the Highlands of Scotland, surrounded by glass fields are far as the eye could see.</p><p>Lord Ryan Hardgrove was a recluse, but he was very known for his charitable nature. His money came from gold and other precarious metals that he invested in economical growth of a great many things…most of which was war, as there was always fighting some where in the world at any time. Peace was bad for business. He enjoyed the nature of war and was also a gambler of it, but a moderate one. He always enjoyed a good wager, as long as it mainly benefited him. And the best thing to bet on was life itself.</p><p>So when the assassin first entered his castle, he wagered it wouldn't take long for this…person…to reach him, and Hardgrove was more than ready for him.</p><p>Through air passageways in the castle, specially crafted to carry sound, he could hear everything that was happening, anywhere in the castle, relyed to his favorite room and private sanctum. And what he heard was death. The assassin was killing his servants with ease, with bloodlust. His castle rooms were filling up with dead bodies, saturated with blood and gore. This assassin was definitely on a mission. By whom, Hardgrove could only speculate. But he only had one man in mind.</p><p>The same man who probably sent this same assassin to kill his friends in London and Rome. Word had come to him by witnesses who saw a small <em>boy</em> killing Dietrich in the street outside the Colosseum of Rome with a pistol, a single shot to the head, and the Italian police reported finding Chlaus with Lady Carolyne in bed together stabbed to death by some sort of small sword. Before them was Vincent Phantomhive and his beautiful wife burned to death in a fire that also took their mansion and their son Ciel.</p><p>Vincent Phantomhive had a second son, the fraternal twin of Ciel, but he died three years earlier during a botched plastic surgery operation that would have restored his face back to normal, from a deformity caused by an adverse reaction to some asthmatic medicine the boy took that didn't belong to him. The curiosity of some kids is unfathomable. But it provided a keen opportunity for Vincent, since his sons looked different. Ciel was beautiful for a boy, while Lukas had a plain look, almost ugly face. This was a grand way to fix Lukas and make him look like Ciel. Beautiful people always went further on life, it was a fact.</p><p>Lord Hardgrove took a sip of brandy from a small, crystal wine glass, and then put it down on a small round table standing next to his plaid, dark green, high back chair that he sat in. It faced the Game Room's ablaze fireplace. The room was a vast reminder of how he loved a good sport. The walls were mounted with animal heads, weaponry, and had a wide variety of games, including a large billiard table in the middle.</p><p>But by far his favorite game was golf. And by betting on his own played games, he had gained a reputation as a master golfer - and in Scotland, that was a huge honor. He was in his mid-thirties, but looked very young for his age. He was a prominent entrepreneur and a renown sportsman. He allied himself with Vincent Phantomhive not only for the man's stature and savvy business sense, but also for his love of sport.</p><p>The sport of hunting men to death.</p><p>And if this assassin had it in for him, the game was on!</p><p>The door to his inner sanctum opened, it creaked slightly. His chair was faced away from the door, so he could not see the assassin directly, but there was a mirror on top of the fireplace that was angled perfectly for him to see the <em>boy's</em> reflection. He straightened his green, checkered golfers cap, and took another sip of his brandy, as he watched the boy approach him cautiously, as if to creep up on him. A flint-lock pistol, and what looked like a small samurai sword called a Tanto, if he recalled, covered in blood, were in each hand. Ideally, both weapons the boy had used to murder his friends?</p><p>"Good evening, dear lad," Hardgrove spoke. The boy halted in his tracks, focusing on the chair. "So you finally made it to me, old boy?" Hardgrove's English born accent fazed through, despite living in Scotland most of his life. "Heed my warning, assassin child, I am a great deal more game than the others…"</p><p>He stood up, his youthful appearance must have confused the boy. With Hardgrove always, he carried his favorite golf club and he held it casually. But inside held a deadly secret. "Expecting someone a little older, were you child? Well, wisdom comes to he who embraces his natural talents, not what others tell you."</p><p>The boy did not move, as if expecting some sort of attack. Hardgrove smirked. "Did you enjoy your tour of the castle, old sport, when you slaughtered all my servants. They are, indeed, replaceable, but they surely were cows to <em>you</em>. I, surely, will be a great deal harder to kill!"</p><p>Hardgrove snapped his fingers, and two dark-skin African Zulu warriors dressed in full dress that were standing on platforms posing as statues on either side of the room - guards for his protection - stepped off, sporting every weapon assorted to their culture. One branded a large, thick blade, metal sword, and the other wielded a massive wooded club with tiny spikes embedded in the hardwood. Hardgrove knew each of these men, posing as Zula warriors, were trained in an assortment of offensive and brutal attacks.</p><p>"Shall we make a wager, dear boy? Heads I win? Tails you lose?"</p><p>The assassin-boy glared at Hardgrove with glacial, blue eyes. The boy tossed the pistol away and stuck the Tanto in the floor next to him. Was he surrendering his weapons? Or was he preparing a defense?</p><p>"Amazing, you look <em>just</em> like <em>him</em>, with one small difference, however - you're <em>not</em>! I know <em>he</em> died with his parents in the fire. <em>Kill him</em>!" Hardgrove pointed at the boy with his golf-club, and the warriors attacked.</p><p>The boy fled under the billiard's table, and the warriors stabbed underneath to wound him or draw him out. But the boy was much too fast and limber and scooted out into open ground quickly, back to where he started. One warrior slammed his club onto the billiard's table doing damage, but Hardgrove merely laughed with amusement. The table was nothing to him, merely money.</p><p>"You are fun sport!" he said. He stepped to the edge of the billiard's table and reached underneath, pressing a button. A second door slid shut, blocking the door out. A device he installed with switches and pullies for his safety if someone wanted in, now it would <em>keep</em> this assassin in so he could not flee.</p><p>The warrior with the sword swung at the boy, but the boy ducked and because of his short stature it was easy to avoid the attack. The sword got embedded into the nearest wall. The warrior with the club rose his weapon aloft and brought it down hard upon a display glass table that the boy was standing next to, showcasing African memorabilia and trinkets that Hardgrove had picked up during a trip aboard. They meant nothing to him either.</p><p>"Righto sport, old man! This is so much fun! My turn!"</p><p>He brought up his golf club, straightening it at the boy like a musket - who was now standing next to an actual statuesque of a Zulu, bare-breasted female Hardgrove had fashioned after a woman he copulated with and then had killed, because to have sex with a "<em>darky",</em> and to have that tryst exposed to the public, would ruin his <em>shining</em> reputation; Chlaus had been the womanizer, Hardgrove had just found her sexy and needed his stick waxed at the time - opened up the bottom panel of the club with a hidden switch on the top handle, and pressed the firing pin.</p><p>The blast rocked through the air like an elephant gun and destroyed the statue, obliterating it completely from wrist high, debris flew everywhere. The warriors shyed away from the shot and fallen debris. Hardgrove had been thrown back from the recoil, dropping his golf, but laughed.</p><p>Unfortunately he had missed the boy, when the boy leapt out of the way like some sort of monkey.</p><p>"I wish you would stop jumping around, old man, you made me miss, and I did enjoy lusting after that harlet of a she-devil. She was one of my greatest conquests. I have her eyes in a jar somewhere…they were so beautiful, I just had to have them."</p><p>The boy fled underneath the billiard's table once more, and then raced between Hardgrove's legs after fleeing the two warriors' latest attacks, running to Hardgrove's chair. The boy kept the chair between him and Hardgrove. Hardgrove shook his head. "Dear boy, if you wish to play hide and seek, I'm afraid that is one game I am too old for. Not come out here and be killed like a…"</p><p>The boy looked at the half wine glass of brandy and then smiled a sinister grin when he briefly glanced back at the fireplace. Hardgrove frowned. "You wouldn't dare, kid. Brandy is like nitro, highly combustible. Throw that in there and it will explode!"</p><p>The chair was blocking the boy's sight of Hardgrove's hands. Hardgrove slowly pulled out a small blade, a hunter's knife, that he kept on his person at all times, sheathed in a brown, leather holder, and calculated the distance to throw it at the boy. A hunter always needed a keen, mathematical mind to outwit his prey. And above all else, no one touched another man's brandy.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eyes, Hardgrove saw one warrior was creeping up from the left side of the boy, but Hardgrove and the other warrior seemed to be keeping the boy's attention because it appeared the boy was not noticing his cautious approach - until the warrior leapt towards the boy without Hardgrove's order. The boy threw the Brandy into the fireplace, raced away, and the liquid caused a large explosion, setting the warrior ablaze. Hardgrove sheltered his face, turning away from the blinding explosion. The second warrior used a carpet to douse the first warrior, who was too badly burned to survive. His skin too charred.</p><p>Hardgrove's favorite chair had also been destroyed beyond salvation, blacked with sooth and charred.</p><p>"Forget about him!" Hardgrove said, rubbing his eyes, restoring his sight, gritting his teeth in anger. "Kill the brat!"</p><p>The second warrior left his partner and ran after the boy towards the other end of the room. The boy had made it to the far end of the billiard's table and appeared to be ready for the warrior's attack, and snatched a billiard ball from the table. He threw it as hard as he could at the warrior, hitting him with enough impact that the concussion dropped him down like a stone, killing him instantly.</p><p>Hardgrove's jaw dropped, then he sneered. The man had been killed by the black 8 ball, the unluckiest ball in the entire set. If you sank this ball, you lost your turn. "Not sporting, old man. Billiard's is a gentleman's game, not for killing your opponents. But what would a <em>child</em> know about playing fair?" Hardgrove smiled spontaneously. "I see now the real game has truly begun. Time to get serious."</p><p>The assassin-boy retrieved his Tanto sword and held in offensive posture. Hardgrove didn't have his golf club, albeit it was still useful even without the shot, but he didn't need it. He returned to the billiard's table and lifted a secret panel in the hardwood border, and pressed a switch.</p><p>The entire table flipped over revealing a metallic, large round disc with a hole in the middle with wires and switches attached to the bottom of the table. And with a flick of a switch, he turned it on. The boy, sword in hand, went flying through the air to it, and the blade of the weapon clung hard to the self-generating magnetic field the disc suddenly produced. The sword's metallic flat edge stuck to it like glue.</p><p>The boy tried to yank it off the magnet, but to no avail.</p><p>"Tsk, tsk, ol' boy. Your weapons have no favor here. This is a magnet, one of the most powerful in the world, brought to life by the Industrial Revolution. Such righteous technology! I foresee it will be used to generate power for hundreds in the near future, if properly utilized. It can also be used for destructive purposes, if fortified properly as well. And you spoiled such an uprising when you began murdering my friends. Tell me, old man, did you also <em>murder</em> Vincent Phantomhive and his beautiful wife, with this same face of his son Ciel that you now steal?"</p><p>The boy narrowed his eyes, tilted his head, as if confused by Hardgrove's accusation. "I am Number Six," the boy finally said. "And I am not old; you are annoying!"</p><p>"Pay it no mind, boy, it is just something I have been come accustomed to saying, with other phrases," Hardgrove said. "Notwithstanding, Number Six you say?"</p><p>The boy backed away when Hardgrove went for his golf club with the edge blown out that was laying on the floor near the billiard's table. He had dropped it when he had recoiled from the blast of its shot. The club end of it looked more like a garden hoe than a golf club now, but it would be more than he would need. The boy's flint-lock pistol was empty and his Tanto was magnetically secured, so he was empty-handed.</p><p>"Then your <em>name</em> is appropriate, for after I kill you, I will bury you six-feet under!"</p><p>And he swung at the boy with his aluminum club. Aluminum was a metal, but it was not as magnetic as plain steel like the Tanto, so the magnetic field had little effect on it. And besides, the power of the magnetic was not turned up that high. Just enough for it to keep the Tanto's steel blade at bay.</p><p>But the boy easily avoided the strike, ducking under the table.</p><p>The billiard balls had spilled out onto the floor when the table was turned and with one stomp on his foot, the boy used one ball as a weapon like a hammer. Hardgrove swore and favored his foot. Then he was hit in the left chin with a cue from underneath that had also fallen, and he swore again, favoring his other leg. "Your little kid games are over! I'm going to murder you!"</p><p>The boy popped up at the end of the billiard's table where the control panel was, examined it quickly, and flicked a switch, turning up the power.</p><p>Hardgrove's aluminum golf club then became magnetized to the table. He himself was then yanked forward when a pocket watch attached to a chain that was in his vest pocket also became stuck to the table. It kept him down, magnetically stuck by way through his clothes fabric. He tried to break free, unable to. He even tried wiggling away, hoping the watch would pull itself out of his pocket, but the pocket was deep, it was of no use. And his chest was so hard-pressed to the magnet, that he could not even unbutton his vest.</p><p>He was trapped, at the mercy of his child assassin, but he showed no fear. "Nice show, old boy. You managed to avert all my tricks and use my own weapon against me, it appears the game is yours. So, what now?" Hardgrove looked at the boy with an examining eye. "Remarkable job, who did it? Your face looks just like <em>him</em>. Unless, you really <em>are</em> him? Tell me something, old bean, did Bryon Kelvin brainwash you and send you to kill me like he did the others?" But the boy's reaction to the question was non-existent. "It matters not. Even if you kill me, Bryon Kelvin will get his upcomings. My brother will avenge me. You won't kill him. No one has been able to out-best him in a duel. Not even Vincent Phantomhive. It was no wonder Vulcan became Vincent's personal protector, up until Vincent died, that is."</p><p>Hardgrove saw the boy walk over to his chair and pick up the hunting knife that Hardgrove had dropped when the fireplace exploded. "How unsporting, old man. Do you plan to kill me with my own hunting knife?"</p><p>The boy also picked up a scrap of clothing from the dead warrior he had killed with the billiard's ball and then bunched it into a pile on Hardgrove's upper back. Hardgrove didn't know what the boy was doing. The boy came back into full sight and stood next to the control panel of the magnet.</p><p>"Hey, what are you doing, my dear boy?" He then noticed the boy no longer had the knife, and Hardgrove fretted where the boy had put it - within the bunched up cloth on his back? He fretted how he was going to die. He shook his head. "No, boy, don't do it. I beg you! If you do that - "</p><p>But the boy didn't listen, and he switched the magnet to full.</p><p>And the last thing Lord Ryan Hargrove felt was the blade of his own hunter's knife course through his back to penetrate his heart, as the full-force of the magnetic field sucked the weapon's blade to the magnet's core.</p><p>
        <em>To be continued…</em>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Part 3 - England</h2></a>
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    <p>A heavily bandaged man sat in a wheelchair and rolled through an underground complex to an "operation centre" by a tall man with black hair and glasses wearing a white lab coat simply referred to as the Doctor. The heavily bandaged man also had a man, but since his transformation from his other self to a new, improved man, he had relinquished his former life for a future he saw brimming with opportunity. A future where he saw London, England, his birth place, and its ruler, Queen Victoria, resign to a new rule and sovereign, when his plans were brought to fruition. As for now, things were only in the planning stage.</p><p>He had had eliminated most of his enemies, thanks in part to an obedient assassin he named "Number Six"; an identification number only, among other of <em>his children</em> who were also little killers. But Number Six was exceptionally special to him and was in fact his favorite. He was <em>now</em> the embodiment of beautification and strength, much like his parents <em>were</em>…parents who abandoned him because he didn't look <em>right</em>: Beautiful. Father took care of that, and faked the boy's death, and eventually gave the boy's parents their uncomings for transgressions against him, setting fire to their mansion. It was still unknown who had actually killed Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive, none of his little killers had taken credit for it, but their bodies were burned to ash in the fire - that was all that mattered. Their deaths, as well as those of Vincent's "Aristocrats of Evil", as they were penned, only served to show that Father's future was shining bright, and that good <em>always</em> conquered evil.</p><p><em>His</em> good…</p><p>In the main room of the complex - the operation centre - other men and women busied themselves in lab experiments and other things, engaged in projects of Father's approval, and in a specially made chair of Father's design, sat Number Six. He did not need to be strapped down as his loyalty was unquestioned. He sat properly with a straight back and his arms on the arm-rests in this chair made of metal and stared into a kaleidoscope wheel that spung on a wall, powered by electricity. In each of the fourteen different colored sections of the kaleidoscope were words that formed Number Six's "assassin's creed", per sa.</p><p>The device worked on two levels: 1) the part of the human brain used for creativity, it focused on the colors; and 2) the words abated to the logical part of the brain, focused on understanding and learning. So together, the kaleidoscope utilized both levels of the brain effectively to their most optimum levels.</p><p>The kaleidoscope was like a "motion" picture - which was a revolutionary concept, although China had an interesting version of a spinning environment with a stationary figure like a horse, and with enough spin, it appeared the horse was moving. But with this "motion" picture concept, the eyes focused in on the words while the kaleidoscope spun, colors blurred, but the words, with unfocused eyes, became clear, and brought the words out of their single slots of the kaleidoscope into the assassin's reinforced creed. This continued reinforcement continued Number Six's complete and unbinding loyalty.</p><p><em>"Come hereto my knight and kill for me; you are mine - now and forever!" </em>Father mentally recited.</p><p>It was designed so no one could just accidentally blurt it out and take control of his assassin and order him to turn against Father. He had originally considered making the assassin's creed a nursery rhyme like from a line from <em>Old Mother Hubbard</em> or <em>The Old Woman Who Lived In a Shoe</em>, but that would be too easy for someone to accidentally say, especially a child, and Number Six's programming would become inert, or would be broken. And if for whatever reason, he managed to recover his "true" identity on his own, the programming broken, the creed would become ineffective and thus the programmer's name - Father's true name - would be lost forever to Number Six's unconscious mind. It was a safety switch, per sa, to protect Father from retribution, and from the like of the rest of <em>his children </em>- bringing about amnesia of the past.</p><p>Father had surrounded himself with indeed a great deal of smart and inventive men.</p><p>The doctor wheeled Father over to Number Six, snapped his fingers, and someone turned off the kaleidoscope. Number Six turned his head slightly and looked at Father.</p><p>"You did well, my child," Father said. "All but two of the Aristocrats of Evil are dead. You are proficient as is your trainer." Number Six remained silent. But Father didn't need a "thank you". "But your next opponent will be by far most challenging. He was an associate of one of my enemies, also an enforcer. Your mission is to eliminate him as well. Another will give you the particulars of his possible whereabouts, after a suitable resting period and food. My little assassin must keep up his energy."</p><p>Number Six nodded acceptingly, as if it were an order.</p><p>"That's a good boy," Father said proudly. "Number Six."</p><p>"The next batch have arrived, sir," the Doctor said. "The twins have collected more <em>subjects</em>."</p><p>"I am pleased Sasha and Samuel Ironstadt are so efficient," Father said. When the Doctor turned him around and wheeled Father forward, leaving the operations room, they went down an adjacent stone-built hallway to another section of the underground, secret complex. "I am curious, what if they found <em>him</em>? If he survived? The boy's body was never found in the ruins of the mansion."</p><p>Doctor chuckled. "I think you will be pleasantly surprised," he said.</p><p>In a secluded, but large, boxed room - which was also used as a storage area for lab equipment and other things - two young men in bright white suits stood next to a series of cages filled with children. The next batch. Sasha and Samuel Ironstadt were hired to round up "lost" children or destitute children, those that were abandoned or unwanted, and bring them to Father to be utilized for various purposes. These were the kidnapped children of London that plagued the news headlines. Number Six had been acquired in a similar manner, but with a little more cunning and ingenuity, and had been declared legally dead by his parents. While his body was retrieved after his death by his parents, a fake body was handed over. The boy's face brutally scarred and unrecognizable able even to his parents. What a surprise they would have had if they knew the truth about their son's surprising resurrection, if they had lived.</p><p>"Is he <em>here</em>?" Father demanded.</p><p>The twins seemed to look at each other momentarily uncertain what their boss was asking, then Sasha nodded, and pointed out the third cage down the line. "He was living on the streets, but we caught him like the others," the twin said.</p><p>Father was wheeled to the small cage, the size used by trappers to keep cougars or other animals of a vicious nature, and saw a small boy with dark, grungy-looking hair, huddled up with his knees to his chest, melancholy and withdraw; his once sweet, deep bluish-purple eyes, downcast to mirror his saddened look.</p><p>Father looked closer at the boy and felt disillusioned. This was not the same Ciel Phantomhive he had once thought the essence of beautification of a boy. He had only met the boy once, five years prior at a social engagement arranged by Vincent Phantomhive, but Father could not get Ciel's beautiful face out of his mind, which was why - and bitter sweet to Vincent Phantomhive and his Aristocrats of Evil shunning him from their group because he "was too old and ugly" - his face gave rise to the casting mould for Number Six's new appearance, because an accident had caused a deformity damaging his face and it needed fixing. And the Doctor did an outstanding job in the plastic surgery.</p><p>Ciel Phantomhive was nothing to him now, covered in soot and grim and tattered cloths. With his uncle now dead, killed by Number Six, Ciel was the sole heir to the Phantomhive name, but everyone believed he died in the fire than burned his home down and killed his parents, and so it will remain. He was now one of <em>his children,</em> and like others, will be trained to obey his every command, or be discarded like a dead dog.</p><p>"The Inner Circle have requested sacrifices for their ritual in five nights time," the Doctor said.</p><p>"Very well, this <em>batch</em> is of no use to me anyhow; what a disgusting lot," Father said, waving them off as if they were some unwanted animals. "Even send Ciel Phantomhive, unless you want him…his parents are dead, as well as anyone else who can help him. Number Six will track and eliminate the other two who <em>belonged</em> to Vincent Phantomhive's secret club in due time."</p><p>The Doctor leaned in to Father's right ear, and whispered, "You are a jealous man, Bryon Kelvin."</p><p>Father - Bryon Kelvin - smirked beneath his bandages, but the sides of his mouth stretched them to show it. "Indeed. As children, we learn an important lesson: We all play or none of us play."</p><p>The Doctor agreed. "I'll inform a representative of the Inner Circle to pick whom they would like out of this batch. But may I take a few for myself? I need new <em>raw</em> material for my experiments."</p><p>Father nodded. "Your choice. But make sure you reverse the best for <em>him</em>."</p><p>"I know, sir. He has no right arm. I'm still looking for the perfect candidate."</p><p>"See that you do," Father said firmly. "I can not have the leader of my special circus troupe of assassins at a disadvantage."</p><p>"Indeed, I will endeavor to keep looking…"</p><hr/><p>The man simply referred to as the Doctor stood over a medical stab in a private infirmity and smiled. Then plunged a long sharp, carving knife into the torso of one of his "raw material" subjects, cutting the child from pelvis to chest, who had been laying "unconscious", or rather brainwashed to remain immobile on the stab. He then went about removing organs and other material that he needed for his experiments.</p><p>It may have appeared like murder to others, but it was all in the guise of science. And these children were forgotten, abandoned, and in the eyes of the world already dead, so why not use them for a good purpose? And what he could not use was given away for animal food to Bryon Kelvin's nephew to sell to dog owners in an underground dog fighting gambling ring he organized.</p><p>And he was still looking for that one perfect candidate for Bryon Kelvin's assassin he called -</p><p>There was a scream!</p><p>The Doctor startled, nearly dropping an organ he had just removed from his latest subject, stumbling to catch it before it fell to the ground.</p><p>He plopped it into a bowl and then turned to the child who had made the scream, still in his cage next to a stone wall. He wiped his hands on his white surgical garb as he told the child to shut-up.</p><p>"Stop it! Stop it!" the child raged, continuing his protest. "Those are children!"</p><p>The Doctor knew the boy. Ciel Phantomhive. But instead of the melancholy, destitute look he had come in with, the boy now had a hatred burning in his eyes as he clutched the bars of his lonely cage. Bryon Kelvin had given the boy to him for his experiments, but he wanted to save the kid for last.</p><p>"You nearly made me drop that heart, kid. Now be quiet or you're next on the table!"</p><p>"What you're doing is horrible! Children on not like cows or chickens!"</p><p>"You may not be old enough to understand this, kid, but everyone is "slaughtered" in life. Be it in death or in life, from a psychological point of view."</p><p>"You mean in their different classes in life?"</p><p>The Doctor rose his brow impressed. "Very good. So you do understand. Your father educated you well."</p><p>"My father is…" he cleared his throat, "…<em>was</em> a good and smart man. Did you kill him?"</p><p>The Doctor shook his head. "I had no hand in your parents' deaths. Notwithstanding, I don't care. My interest is purely in science. And since…my employer has given me subjects to work with, I have made some very interesting discoveries and advancements. I even know how to reattach a severed limb to a body, even years after the skin has sealed over the wound."</p><p>The boy tilted his head, as if not knowing how to reply to that. The Doctor figured that the boy had never been exposed to such a thing. Ciel Phantomhive had probably been so isolated to the way of the world that the true reality of it had never been revealed to him. With him in that cage, perhaps now it had.</p><p>A knock on the door to his lab gave him just cause for the conversation to end. But he groaned in displeasure. "Why all these interruptions?"</p><p>He answered the door, unlocking it first, and yanked it open. He was about to protest the interruption, when he was confronted by a very large, bald and tall man, with a tattoo on the side of his head. He appeared to slump slightly, but it didn't deter his largeness any.</p><p>The Doctor cleared his throat. He knew this man, he was a member of Bryon Kelvin's traveling circus troupe, also his most loved band of assassins. He didn't talk much, but he did have the unpleasant nickname "Tiny", which was a play on his size and a non de plume for his circus role. Tiny had been found with others whom Kelvin had found living on the street some years back. Tiny refused to allow Kelvin to take them unless he came along. So, in a way, Tiny were the others' unofficial protector.</p><p>"What do you want?" the Doctor asked firmly. Behind him dwarfed another, who suddenly peaked out from behind Tiny, and the Doctor recognized him as well. He normally wore his red hair aflame and spiked and circus make-up as a member of the circus troupe, its leader in fact, but at the moment, he was dressed more conservatively with his hair flatter and parted in the middle wearing a dark cape over his clothes. He had the nickname of Joker, also given to him by Kelvin. "Oh, it's you… Why are you here?"</p><p>Joker smiled modestly. "Father requested I come; he says you found a proper candidate to replace my missing limb?" Joker stepped out into the open. His right arm was missing, caused by some unknown happenstance at a young age. Despite being "damaged", Kelvin still kept him and put him in charge of his traveling circus troupe. When the troupe weren't killing people of Kelvin's choosing, they were entertaining the English masses with their clowning and performing acts. It was the perfect cover.</p><p>The Doctor furrowed his brow confused. "I have not informed 'Father' of such," referring to Bryon Kelvin's godly title he preferred to use now in front of his children. "He is mistaken."</p><p>Joker eyed the Doctor with his own confusion. "But Father said you said - "</p><p>"I shall speak to him." The Doctor went out into the corridor, slamming his lab door behind him. He didn't want them to see what was hidden therein.</p><p>The three of them went up to the main operations centre one level up, where 'Father' was, in his wheelchair and wrapped in bandages, speaking with another scientist. The Doctor noticed a table in one corner of the room with a white sheet draped over what could only be a dead body beneath. This was only not here the previous evening. It must have just come in? But he ignored it for the time being.</p><p>Allocating to the same playdom as <em>his children,</em> he said to Kelvin, "Father, may I speak with you a moment?" Joker and Tiny followed him. Bryon turned his wheelchair around to face them. "There must be some confusion. I still have not found a suitable candidate for Joker's missing limb. He has informed me that - "</p><p>"That I have," Bryon finished, and gestured to the table with the dead body beneath.</p><p>The Doctor crossed the room to the table and pulled off the sheet. The young man on the table was dead, his body was beginning to decay and smell, but he did appear to be the same height and weight as Joker. The Doctor looked back at Bryon. Where had Bryon acquired this body from? "He is dead…"</p><p>"He is just what is needed," Bryon said.</p><p>"I prefer my subjects to be living." The Doctor held the right arm of the dead man aloft. The skin was decaying rapidly without oxygen supplying the blood cells to it, turning it a blue hue. "The tissue and muscle are of no use. This arm is worthless."</p><p>"Then strip it off."</p><p>For the first time, despite all the grotesque things that he had done, performed to other bodies, he was taken aback by what Bryon was suggesting.</p><p>"Is there a problem? You have told me the reattachment of a severed limb is of a rather simple operation."</p><p>The Doctor composed himself, then nodded. "It can be <em>done</em>." He mused a moment, smiling. "To attach the skeletal remains of a severed limb to a living body will be an interesting experiment. An interesting experiment, indeed."</p><p>"Joker, do you accept this?" Kelvin said.</p><p>Joker seemed to take a moment to wonder about it, looking at the body, then back at Father. Then he nodded, as if refusal of Father's "gift" would be an insult. "Yey, Father. I am honored."</p><p>"Then I will prepare immediately," the Doctor said.</p><p>"Ah, just in time…" Bryon Kelvin said, looking past them to the entrance of the operation centre. The Doctor turned, as did the others, to the appearance of Number Six. "Joker, may I introduce Number Six. Another one, if not my most successful assassin's to date, present company excluded, if course."</p><p>"Hello," Joker said.</p><p>"Hello," Number Six said plainly.</p><p>"Well rested from your sleep period, my child? Did you eat some food?" Bryon asked. Number Six nodded. "Excellent! Then, the mission I spoke about last evening is waiting for you. And it may be your most difficult one yet. You are to kill Vulcan Hardgrove, enforcer to your late - " He stopped abruptly, as if catching himself before he said something wrong. He smiled. "Enforcer to a great enemy of <em>mine</em>!"</p><p>
  <em>To be continued…</em>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Part 4 - Murdering Family</h2></a>
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<p></p><div><p>An abandoned warf warehouse on the edge of the Themes River stood testament to the rare, hard economic times England was experiencing despite the introduction of the Industrial Revolution of machines. Perhaps it was indeed the core reason for the lack of work for the masses? Before, it had been where men and women worked to craft items of sale, <em>now</em> machines could build the same items better and faster and cheaper without money or labor. It was said where there is process there must be sacrifice.</p><p><em>This</em> warf, once a bustling port of activity with workers harvesting shiploads of fish and other material, sat destitute now, to new and improved built facilities run by machines and manned by fewer workers. It was said that machines would make man's work easier, instead it put many men out of work, and the workhouses were full of the homeless including once schooled children who couldn't afford to go. Men even went far as to forge for survival in crime, and in the last couple of years, the jails had seen a thirty percent increase in inmates, where most of the prisoners either worked themselves to death in hard labor camps or starved and froze during the cold winters in their cells.</p><p>A good man once said, "<em>Let the rot of society wallow in their own crafted demise and allow the heartfelt reign over corruption and ill-will; let the masses be policed by the wise and the innocent be cast into the light; leader the meek and educate the strong, but be gentle with each.</em>" - Vincent Phantomhive; said during the very first meeting of his secret sect of aristocrats.</p><p>But the rich were the only ones that were managing now, suriving on the backs of the workers. And only two weeks prior, one of England's most prominent citizens and socialites had been struck down by a menacing and shadowy foe. Vincent Phantomhive and his wife and their young son, Ciel, had been murdered by a yet unknown killer, their mansion burned to the ground, and only rumor abound of who had committed the crime. Scotland Yard had no clues to work with, claiming that an unfortunate happenstance occurred - that a fire log may have rolled out of the fireplace and set the mansion ablaze while Vincent and his wife Rachel slept in the Sitting Room, their bodies burned to ash.</p><p>But when they sifted through the rumble for which Tanaka, the butler had survived, he told of a strange tale of children running through the mansion just before it went aflame. And the ruins had no indication of Ciel's body. Notwithstanding, like his parents, his body could have been burned to ash somewhere.</p><p>As one of Vincent Phantomhive's closest friends, enforcer and protector, he had failed to fulfill his duty to them, and it torn him up inside.</p><p>Vincent had set him on an errand that took longer than he had anticipated that day - December 14th. There was a rumor of a man who may have known the identity of the man who continued to kidnap children, but it turned out to be a rouse. And he figured it may have been a purposeful rouse to separate him from Vincent.</p><p>Vincent suspected it may have been Bryon Kelvin who kidnapped children, but he had no true evidence, only a theory. But even a word from Vincent in the Queen's ear would send a warrant out for Kelvin's arrest. It was this that had him thinking that Bryon Kelvin may have been involved in the Phantomhive's deaths.</p><p>He had received a letter from Chlaus Phantomhive that he too believed Bryon Kelvin was involved in the child kidnappings. But most recently, everyone who had been associated with the special group of aristocrats Vincent had formed to protect England's - and his own - best interests had gone silent. And he wondered why. Even his own brother, Ryan, had not communicated with him lately. He feared the worse. What if Bryon Kelvin, using some nefarious means, had murder them? But he couldn't believe that. Not yet.</p><p>So then why was he here? he asked himself. This was the warf where Vincent and Rachel first encountered the twins Sasha and Samuel Ironstadt and the six brainwashed children. It was a dark and spooky place with rusted machinery and battle damage. He could see the scars of Vincent and Rachel's fight in the wood with the children and twins, bullets were still embedded into the fortification pillars and walls. He hoped he could find some clue here in avenging his dear friends' deaths, but nothing of value or inspiration was presenting itself to him.</p><p>He was Vulcan Hardgrove, an entrepreneur, among other things, and once proud friend and enforcer to one of the greatest men he had ever known. Tanaka, Vincent's butler, was looking after <em>Funtom Co</em>., but its prominence was failing without Vincent to lead it even only after weeks of Vincent's death. In a few years, he feared the company will either parish or have to be sold to merge with a more successful venture.</p><p><em>Funtom Co.</em> was just as renown in England as another company in the Canadian colonies - <em>The Hudson's Bay Company</em>. Perhaps he should mention a possible merger with it, so at least the workers will still have futures? An overseas market might even see profits rise as well? They will be separate, but under the same brand name, and considering Tanaka's age, it might be in his and the company's best interest.</p><p>As nothing was of note to him, he decided to leave. But when he turned towards the half open warehouse siding door, a shadowy figure stood there - the light from a half-crescent moon shining against his back but casting his identity in darkness. He looked small, like…a child?</p><p>"Child, this is no place to be playing," he said. "You can get hurt; go back home."</p><p>But the child refused to heed to his warning. In fact, the child didn't even move an inch, as if he were staring directly at Vulcan purposely.</p><p>"Did you not hear me, child?" he said with more firmness. "Leave this place at once!"</p><p>Suddenly the child threw something at him, and Vulcan had to sidestep to avoid its swift velocity as it embedded itself into a wooden support beam that he had been standing next to…and saw it was a blade with something strung around its handle. And Vulcan gasped at the discovery of its insignificance. This was his brother's prized hunter's knife and attached to it with a string was Dietrich's military Iron Cross.</p><p>He pulled it from the support beam and held it with disbelief in his hand. The only way that this knife and this cross could be in the hands of this child was if both of his friends were dead. And if they were dead, so to, plausibly, were Vincent's brother Chlaus and Lady Carolyne - which was why he had not heard from them. And it only confirmed what he had suspected, that Bryon Kelvin had had them murdered!</p><p>"Who gave this to you boy!" he demanded. "Tell me his name - so I can rip his heart out!"</p><p>The boy's response was unexpected, and he ran towards Vulcan with a sword in hand. Vulcan unsheathed a bayonet and they exchanged bows, their weapons clashing and clanging with a quick succession of attacks. Despite being just a child of perhaps ten years old, this boy was trained like a master sword wielder. His Tanto sword, a Japanese small samurai sword, was designed for close combat - and most likely because it was lighter for this boy to use. But whoever trained him, trained him well with it.</p><p>Vulcan backed off, giving distance. But the boy continued a vicious onslaught of attacks that surprised Vulcan. Even in this dark place, it didn't appear to waver the boy's ability to <em>see</em> his opponent. Blinded at an early age in his left eye during a street fight, Vulcan had learned to use his other senses to aid him in life, and used them to defend himself from the boy's attacks. But even he was surprised by the boy's skill and quickness and ability to recover, to retaliate again and again.</p><p>He didn't want to do it, but he had no choice. And after blocking the next strike, downcasting their swords, he laid a right cross into the boy's face, dropping him to the ground. He then stepped on the boy's sword, flatting it, as the boy held his left cheek. The boy's face was still darkened by the lack of light in the warf warehouse, but he looked up at Vulcan, a glint in one glacial blue eye, momentarily brightened by a gleam of light from a slit in one of the warehouse walls - illuminating half his face. There was hatred in that look.</p><p>"Who are you boy? And why do you attack me?"</p><p>The boy relinquished his weapon and back somersaulted like some sort of ninja, then reached behind him and pulled out another weapon. Vulcan veered out of the way when a shot was fired from a gun, then another, as the boy followed his moments with the multi-caliber weapon. Four shots were fired before the boy stopped. If Vulcan recalled this particular gun, for which he was an expect on all facets of weaponry, the boy had two shots left. It was a six-shooter. Vincent Phantomhive had one just like it.</p><p>"You're good kid, I'll grant you that, even at your age…" Vulcan's voice reverberated through the warehouse from his shadowy hiding place. The boy appeared to have lost him, looking around aimlessly. "But tell me that isn't all you have to offer me?"</p><p>And with the same swift velocity, Vulcan returned an attack in kind, and threw Ryan's knife directly at the boy. But the boy appeared to <em>feel</em> it coming and quickly veered out of the way as it embedded itself into a support beam near where the boy was standing. Much like a Japanese ninja <em>felt</em> the pressure of the wind when an enemy attacked, the boy seemed to have honed a similar skill, and Vulcan was impressed. And at the moment, he could not think of anyone he knew, despite his many contacts with men of his skill and caliber, possessing such an advance talent to train this boy. No one in England, that is.</p><p>A shot fired in his direction and Vulcan moved off into a deeper, darker alcove of the warehouse. A direct assault on this boy was unwarranted. He had to come at him from behind. He did have his own pistol, but didn't want to use it. He didn't want to kill this boy until he got answers. But with this kind of skill, did this boy <em>really</em> kill his friends? The idea seemed likely. More than likely after seeing him in action.</p><p>He hated it to come to this, but he had no choice. From his jacket, he took out his Housier double-barrel 50 calibre pistol. It was specially designed with the barrels stacked on top of each other instead of side-to-side like other guns of the calibre. Not only was it sleeker, but he found it lighter and easier to fire. But he didn't want to kill the kid, only maim him slightly - to keep him alive, so he could get answers. So he aimed at the boy's gun-wielding hand and fired.</p><p>The top barrel misfired, but the bottom barrel hit the mark, if not missing the boy's hand completely and sending the six-shooting sprawling from his hand to the ground. The boy let out a cry of both surprise and pain, when the sudden jerk of having the gun shot out of his hand had twisted his wrist oddly backwards.</p><p>Vulcan came out of the shadows. His gun was empty, but the boy didn't know that. He cursed himself for why the top barrel had misfired, but he would dismantle the gun later and find out.</p><p>"Easy boy, you've lost," he said calmly, approaching the boy with his gun clutched firmly in his hand and brought it to bare on the boy.</p><p>He grabbed the boy by the collar and brought him into an area of light and was shocked at what he saw. This boy had the face of his departed friend's son Ciel Phantomhive, but unlike the innocent, shy, happy boy that he once knew, this boy had a cold-hearted look in his eyes that burned with a deep hatred.</p><p>"Why boy? What happened to you?" The boy seemed unafraid, his eyes staring directly at Vulcan without violation. "What happened that night during the fire at the mansion?" Then it suddenly occurred to him that this was <em>not</em> Ciel Phantomhive, but a fake. "Who gave you that face? Answer me boy!"</p><p>But the boy was silent despite the possible event of his death at Vulcan's hands. Unarmed and defenseless, Vulcan released him, pushing the boy to the ground.</p><p>"Go back to your master and tell him you failed," Vulcan said. "And tell him, I will find him and kill him for the insult that he has cast upon your face. The boy's face you have stolen was a kind soul, not a mindless killer. I remember another kind-hearted boy for which you share his eyes, but he is dead. He died three years ago at the hands of an foolish man who claimed he could work miracles."</p><p>Vulcan's eye's widened when his mind suddenly triggered an unbelievable thought, looking closer at the boy. He shook his head in disbelief. "No, it can't be! Did he actually succeed? Lukas? Is that you?"</p><p>For whatever reason, the mere mention of the name enraged the boy and he ran at Vulcan, barreling into his stomach, knocking him down. Vulcan landed with a heavy thud and dropped his pistol. The boy quickly recovered it and pointed it at Vulcan's face. And clicked the trigger. But nothing happened. He clicked it several more times without stop, without remorse, but it failed every time.</p><p>"Lukas, tell me what happened to you!"</p><p>Again, the mention of the name appeared to enrage the boy and he reached down and clutched his hands around Vulcan's throat, choking him. Vulcan knocked him off, and the boy rolled away, quickly got to his feet and recovered his Tanto sword, as Vulcan coughed, rubbing his throat.</p><p>The boy grit his teeth in anger holding his sword in offensive posture. Vulcan once again unsheathed his bayonet. "Are we going to play this game again, boy? Tell me how Bryon Kelvin did it? Was that doctor also in on the plot to steal you away from your parents?"</p><p>"Shut-up! My name is Number Six!"</p><p>But the boy appeared apprehensive, as if fighting to keep himself, Vulcan observed. He had only heard the story from Vincent about the brainwashed children under the twins control years prior, and over the years had not quite believed it, but with Lukas here now, he believed the story whole-heartedly. Bryon Kelvin had faked the boy's death and then brainwashed him, turning Lukas into an assassin, after fixing his face. Then sent him to kill all the members of Vincent's secret sect of aristocrats that mocked Kelvin from joining.</p><p>He didn't realize the <em>old man</em> had it in his blood, to be so cruel despite his kind-hearted façade and organizing and co-operating an orphanage for destitute, homeless children, whom Vulcan now realized were becoming his own personal, brainwashed army for some nefarious plot!</p><p>"Your name is Lukas Phantomhive, boy! Remember who you are!"</p><p>"I AM NUMBER SIX!" the boy shouted with such rigidity!</p><p>"YOU ARE LUKAS PHANTOMHIVE!" Vulcan retorted with the same rigidity! "I escorted your father to hospital where you were residing after your accident with your face. You drank some of your brother's asthma medicine and it scarred you. Your father felt it in your best interest to help you with plastic surgery to correct the deformity. But then Bryon Kelvin stole you!"</p><p>"Lies! Father is a kind man! He helped me!"</p><p>"Father? Is that what Bryon Kelvin is calling himself now? Do all the brainwashed children call him this?"</p><p>Lukas appeared to falter in his resolve to fight, putting a hand to his face. "Lies! You are lying! You are Father's enemy! And I will kill you!"</p><p>Lukas stuck his sword into the ground next to him and reached into his clothes for something, pulling out what looked like a string of Chinese firecrackers. Then he pulled out a book of matches, lit one firecracker and threw them all at Vulcan. The firecrackers exploded with pops and a brightness that temporarily blinded Vulcan. And Vulcan had to shield his eyes.</p><p>But the distraction was that Lukas needed and he used it, and Vulcan suddenly felt the penetration of a sharp blade enter his chest with unexpected quickness. Vulcan's eye widened with shock when his vision cleared, and he exchanged looks with Lukas's glacial blue eyes. Lukas's eyes were filling with hatred, albeit programmed into him.</p><p>"I <em>am</em> Number Six!" Lukas repeated. "You are mistaken!"</p><p>Vulcan fell back to the ground, sliding off the sword, his blood saturating its blood in crimson. He held his chest and feared his right lung had been hit, wheezing for breath.</p><p>"Your…parents…loved…you…"</p><p>"Indeed. Father does <em>love</em> me," Number Six said. "And he will be pleased with your demise!"</p><p>And with one swift thrust from Lukas's sword Vulcan's heart was struck through.</p><p>
        <em>To be continued...</em>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Part 5 - "Assassin Number 6"</h2></a>
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    <p>The Doctor clamped his hands over his ears to dispel Ciel Phantomhive's screams. The boy would just not be silent, screaming horridly inside his cage. This then got the other children started. They weren't wailing or crying, but shouting in protest at what may befall them, observing what the Doctor had been doing to other children, and they did not want it to happen to them. He simply could not work like this!</p><p>He left his infirmity and slammed the door behind him, leaving the children to shout to themselves. But their screams could still be heard through the door. The Phantomhive boy had been screaming like this for three days straight, whenever he entered the lab, and he had not been able to continue any of his experiments. He demanded the boy be removed, but Kelvin told him to deal with it. Even when the boy was taken out of his cage in preparation for an experiment, he would thrash around uncontrollably and would be <em>very</em> uncooperative, and for some reason, did not respond well to brainwashing…</p><p>He had heard a rumor that Ciel Phantomhive had been taken to a medium soon after his fraternal brother had died - Lukas Phantomhive also known as Number Six - and this medium erased Ciel's memory of him. He didn't know the full circumstances of it, but he wondered if this previous "brainwashing" had something to do with Ciel Phantomhive's lack of lenience unlike others in acceptance of Kelvin's brainwashing?</p><p>Notwithstanding, he wanted the kid gone. If he could not be brainwashed or used for one of his experiments, he had no use for the kid. But to just kill him would be a waste. The Inner Circle - a group of political mogul's with their own agenda when it came to the sovereign imperative of England - paid good money for blood sacrifices that they offered up to a demonic divinity that they worshipped. He could not recall who. And he didn't care.</p><p>Venturing up to the operation centre, where he was going to inform Kelvin - or Father - to remove the Ciel brat from his infirmity, he began to hear a loud, ruckus commotion as he reached the entrance to the room. Inside, five men were attempting to restrain Number Six, who for some reason, was going crazy!</p><p>"Subdue him, fools!" Kelvin ordered the five men in black attire.</p><p>They were unarmed, but heavily build. They looked like thugs, all bald. And yet sNumber Six easily overcame them, tossing them away as if they were nothing. The child was extremely strong for his pint size of ten years old. One man was thrown over a table and into a laboratory experiment, two men crashed together that came at Number Six from either side - the boy veering away on instinct. Another man grabbed the kid, but Number Six kicked him between the legs and then snapped his neck. And the fifth man looked to be momentarily scared at what the boy had done to his other four enforcers before attacking him, but appeared to be the smarter of the five and weaved away when the boy lunged for him, quickly grabbing Number Six in a moment of weakness and imbalance in a bear hug, holding him tight.</p><p>"What's going on?" the Doctor demanded.</p><p>"Strap him in the chair!" Kelvin ordered.</p><p>The man did, but with difficulty.</p><p>The Doctor came to Kelvin's side. "What's wrong with him?"</p><p>Kelvin shook his head. "When he returned from his last mission, he suddenly became violent and confused, and then began throwing some kind of childish temper."</p><p>"What about? Could it be his programming?"</p><p>"I don't see how?"</p><p>Number Six screamed to be released and he struggled hopelessly against the leather binds of the metal chair. Binds had been attached, but Number Six had never needed them before except in the very beginning. Over the past couple of years since his inception into Kelvin's little army, he had be completely obedient and loyal. Now something had gone wrong.</p><p>"Turn on the kaleidoscope!" Kelvin ordered. "Open his eyes!"</p><p>The machine was switched on and began to spin with the assassin's creed. The man who had captured Number Six used his fingers to forcefully widen open the boy's eyes. But Number Six thrashed his head around making it impossible to keep him steady for the creed to reinforce his brainwashing. Suddenly Number Six bit one of the man's finger's off, blood dripped down the boy's mouth as the man screamed.</p><p>Number Six shifted his weight from side-to-side, rocking the chair, loosing its bolts in the floor. The Doctor took action and opened up a near by medicine cabinet, took out a small bottle, opened it, grabbed a handkerchief from an inside pocket beneath his lab coat and poured some of the liquid contents on it. Then he pressed it against Number's Six's face, over his mouth and nose.</p><p>Number Six had no choice but to breath it in and immediately began to loose consciousness. But before he did, he said one single word, completely unexpected to everyone listening… "<em>Luuukaaasss…</em>" Then his head dropped to his chin, and Number Six fell unconscious.</p><p>The Doctor looked back at Kelvin. Kelvin's one unbandaged eye was wide with shock and surprise. "Lukas? That is his real name, is it not? How did he break his programming?" For the first time ever, he found Kelvin speechless. Normally Kelvin had an answer for everything.</p><p>The Doctor pointed to a man in a lab coat. "You, take care of that man…" referring to the fingerless enforcer. "I'll reattach his finger later, but put it on ice or it will rot!" Then he pointed to the another enforcer getting to his feet, the man who had been thrown over a table. "And you, put Number Six in a cage until we can learn what went wrong!"</p><p>"In a cage, Doctor?" Kelvin protested. "He is my best assassin! My pride and joy!"</p><p>"With all due respect, sir, if you continue to override an individual's free will, the brain will eventually find a way to break free of its own method," the Doctor said. "Dr. Freud speaks of this in his studies in child psychology. A new way must be devised to keep Number Six in line or we will have another incident like this one. Something must have happened on his last mission to bring his buried identity to the surface. A word spoken, a sound, a smell - anything can trigger hidden memories."</p><p>"Fix him!" Kelvin ordered.</p><p>The Doctor nodded. And watched as the enforcer carried Number Six away over his shoulder. "On another note," the Doctor said. "The <em>other</em> Phantomhive boy. He is unruly and my experiments are suffering. He continues to scream and interrupt me. Nothing is being accomplished in my lab."</p><p>"You have spoke about this to me before. In light of your valor have, I will acquiesce to your request on this issue and have him transferred. He will join the rest of the children that will be sent to the Inner Circle for their sacrifice. I will inform Sasha and Samuel Ironstadt of the addition."</p><p>The Doctor nodded and thanked him. Perhaps now he can get back to work.</p><hr/><p>In the days that followed, Number Six finally returned under Kelvin's control with several rigorous treatments of a harsh nature. It took methods very near to torture before the Lukas's identity was once again submerged beneath that of the loyal assassin Number Six. But why it had happened was still a mystery. His last mission was to kill Vincent Phantomhive's loyal friend and enforcer Vulcan Hardgrove.</p><p>An secret investigation was launched in the location Number Six said he had killed Vulcan, but nothing had been found that would indicate anything that would cause Number Six's confusion and temper. Scotland Yard confirmed the death of Rex "Vulcan" Hardgrove found in the warf warehouse with his heart and right lung punctured through. This corresponded to Number Six's kill strikes he had told.</p><p>Notwithstanding, in the days that also followed, tragic news befell Kelvin as the deaths of nearly thirty Inner Circle members were reported by one of their representatives. Each member who had had attended the "sacrifice" that was scheduled had been slaughtered by some unknown…<em>thing!</em> Their bodies mutilated in such horrid ways that they could hardly be called human.</p><p>The secret underground amphitheatre, the Inner Circle's special meeting place, where the killings happened was sealed off after the findings. Scotland Yard was never told. And the killings were covered up, their families given some "believable" excuse. Many of England's prominent socialites and men had been killed in the amphitheatre.</p><p>Bryon Kelvin and the Doctor conversed alone in Kelvin's private quarters in his secret <em>lair</em>. Kelvin held the report that was delivered to him of the carnage inside the amphitheatre. A few photographs had been taken, but the hazy black and white stills could never match what he had seen first hand.</p><p>"They all died?" the Doctor said.</p><p>"Except a select few who were away on other business - five Inner Circle members are left, that's how we came to learn of this tragedy," Kelvin confirmed. "My nephew, a gypsy woman and the twins were in attendance, but they all <em>miraculously</em> managed to survive this grotesque massacre."</p><p>"Do we know who may have committed this horrendous act?"</p><p>Kelvin shook his head. "No clues were found, and my nephew and the twins did not see anything from what they tell me - they hid somewhere safe, blinding themselves to the slaughter; the place was too dark. All they say is that they <em>felt</em> death. I must question them more about it later. Notwithstanding, the children who were to be sacrificed were also killed. All except one, and his body is missing."</p><p>"Ciel Phantomhive," the Doctor ventured a guess.</p><p>"Correct."</p><p>"There is no way he could have done all this, even with his unruly behavior of prior."</p><p>Kelvin agreed. "Indeed, Doctor." He looked retrospective. "Nevertheless, to what or to whom the Inner Circle were sacrificing those children to, I fret, that they may have succeeded."</p><p>
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